


Near Misses

by Deannie



Series: Near Misses [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-01-18
Updated: 1996-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend's death and a frightening car accident leave Scully skittish--but, as she and Mulder travel to California to investigate a killer, should she be even more skittish than she is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Near Misses

_Thursday  
Alexandria, Virginia_

It had been such a perfect day. A boring, but pleasantly uneventful, time at work, full of cost reports and finishing files. She'd had a quick but relaxing dinner with her mother, before running home to get happily dressed to the nines for a evening concert at the Center. Sal and Janis had arrived a little late, which had given her a bit more time to reinvent herself via make-up and curlers. They all looked smashing, though all Janis could do was sigh as they headed downstairs toward Dana's car. 

"I still don't understand how you Fibbies do it." 

"Do what?" Sal had asked. 

Janis raked them both with a grudgingly admiring eye. "Manage to look so... _feminine_!" She looked down at herself with a disparaging snort. "I just end up looking like a marine in drag." 

Sal laid a hand on her friend's arm. "Jan, you look fantastic. And besides," she continued, sharing a teasing smile with Dana, "You _are_ a marine." 

"Thanks," Jan replied, mock-irritated. "No support from my friends." 

"I think that dress really suits you, Janis," Dana chimed in, appraising her friend's tall form approvingly. "The blue of it sets off your eyes." 

"Right," Jan snorted again, stopping to look down at herself as they reached the bottom of the steps. The long blue gown was a beautiful piece of clothing, but next to Sal's short, sexy black shift, and Dana's elegant red velvet, she felt like a scarecrow wrapped in taffeta. 

"Look, Janis," Sal persisted. "You just have to relax, okay? God, sometimes I think you're as tight-assed as Dana." 

Scully shot her friend a vicious glance, then glanced pragmatically at her watch. "Come on, guys," she said, headed once more for her car. "We're going to be late." 

"Yes, ma'am, Agent Scully," Janis replied cheerfully as she followed Dana around to the driver's side of the car. "You're so--" 

"LOOK OUT!" Sal's screamed warning came precious fractions too late, and she watched the dark sedan sweep across the streetward side of the car, obscuring her two friends in noise and violence. 

  

Scully saw it coming just early enough to be afraid. She barely heard the back door wrench backward on its hinges, couldn't feel the pain as it pinned her painfully against the driver's door that she had yet to open. All she could see as she lost consciousness was her friend's body being caught and dragged by the sedan's momentum. 

She knew then that one perfect day was too much to ask. 

* * * 

_Friday  
Georgetown Medical_

"Hey, Dana." Sal's voice sounded hollow, though she managed to muster a smile for her friend. "How you feeling?" 

"Okay," Scully replied in a similar tone, her voice husky and raw from a bruised windpipe. "They'll let me out this afternoon." 

Sal nodded. "I thought so... You were really lucky, you know?" She sniffled slightly and cleared her throat. "So I, um... I went by your apartment to pick up some sweats and stuff for you." She offered the bag. "And I checked your messages... Why didn't you tell Mulder what happened? He left a message saying he hoped your _cold_ cleared up." 

Scully dropped her eyes guiltily. "He's got enough going on, Sal." She shrugged. "And there's nothing for him to do but worry." 

As if he didn't worry enough already. Since that... since Pfaster, he didn't seem to want her out of his sight, and she didn't think she could deal with another of his whipped puppy looks just now. 

Sal just nodded. "Oh. There was a message from your mom, just left it before I got in. _Her_ I did call back, just to let her know what was going on. She said she'd be here as soon as she could. I made sure to tell her you were all right." 

Scully nodded. One more person who had to worry too much. "Anyone else?" 

"Yeah, some guy. He didn't leave his name, just said he was sorry he missed you, and he'd try back later." She fell silent for a moment, sinking into a chair. "Janis's parents want to have the funeral on Monday. Full military honors at Arlington." 

Another day off work. She could put it down to her "cold," but it wasn't as if Mulder would miss the bruises when she walked in on Tuesday. The back door had caught her just across the neck, and it looked like someone had taken a lead pipe to her. She sighed. "Guess I should call him, huh?" 

Sal eyed her appraisingly. "Best friends are supposed to be there to comfort you, Dana. At least give him the chance." 

Scully nodded. "When I get home tonight." 

Sal knew, better than Dana, that she wouldn't call her partner. Not that night, or the next, or the next. She protected him as much as he did her. 

* * * 

_Monday  
Arlington National Cemetery_

The drive out had been silent, Scully staring out the window as Sal drove. She didn't feel up to it. Just being in a car spooked her. _Shellshock,_ she correctly surmised. 

She had known Janis since they were both Navy brats in California, so her parents were old friends. Her father, tight and proper in his Navy Dress, wrapped his careful arms around her and gave a squeeze. "Are you all right, Dana?" 

She nodded, tears threatening again, though she'd already shed too many for her friend. She couldn't help but feel responsible, however unsubstantiated she knew that feeling to be. "I'm so sorry." 

Jan's mother had hugged her close. "It wasn't your fault, Dana. We know that." Her eyes flashed a little angrily. "It's that driver's fault! Is there any word on leads? Any idea who he is?" 

Sal shook her head sadly. "They're calling it a hit and run. I only got a partial on the license plate as he took off. It really wasn't enough." 

  

The funeral left both women feeling empty. Sal took off to her father's after dropping Dana off at her apartment. Dana knew of only one way to deal with the emptiness--ignore it. And the best way to ignore it was to go to work. She didn't think about what she'd say to Mulder. Didn't think about how hurt he was likely to be that she hadn't let him know about the accident. She just needed something to fill her. If it was anger at her partner's overprotectiveness, so be it. 

  

_FBI Headquarters_

Mulder was on his feet in a second as she walked through the door, striding across the room with a concern that exhausted her. "God, Scully! What happened?" 

She let him help her with her coat, saw it safely stowed, and sat down wearily in her chair before she tried to answer. "I had to go to a funeral today." 

He didn't see that that was an answer to his question. "What happened to _you_?" 

She looked up at him, the blankness in her eyes telling him that she had tried to answer him. "Sal and... and Janis and I were supposed to go to a concert on Thursday night. We were hit" _what an inadequate word!_ "before we got there. Janis didn't..." 

Mulder dropped to a crouch beside her. "Oh, Scully..." 

"I just came from the funeral... I didn't... I couldn't just stay home." 

Mulder nodded. He understood the sentiment. "Is Sal all right? Are _you_ all right--I mean, really all right?" 

"Sal's fine. She was on the other side of the car..." 

Mulder looked up at her. The expected hurt in his eyes made Scully wish she hadn't come in. She didn't know that she could deal with it today. 

"I'm sorry I didn't call you, Mulder," she said finally. "I really am okay, and there wasn't anything you could have done." 

That wasn't the real reason she hadn't called, and Mulder knew it, but let the matter rest. She was tired, sore, saddened. He wouldn't bring it up now. He knew she didn't want to deal with it. What she wanted, her eyes told him, was something to take her mind off of it all. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and rose. 

"There's not much in the way of cases this week. It's mostly just paperwork, but..." 

She smiled at him gratefully. He always understood, it seemed. "Right now, that's about all I want." 

  

_Saturday  
Alexandria, Virginia_

By Friday, she had begun to feel herself again, though she was still a little sore. The week had been just what she needed; paperwork and a few case profiles for VCS. She woke on Saturday morning to an early telephone call, debating whether to answer it or not. 

"Hello?" 

"Scully? Hi, it's me. Listen..." His voice was timid, that I-don't-know-if-this-is-the-right-thing-to-do-but-I'm-going-to-ask-anyway tone in it that made her smile. "I was wondering--if you're up to it--if you'd like to go for a run with me this morning. Or breakfast, maybe, if you're too sore for running." 

She smiled wider. "I have a brunch date with Mom and Melissa at ten, but running sounds like a good idea. Thanks." 

He paused a moment, then tried to sound unconcerned. "Okay, great. I'll be over at your place in about forty-five minutes, okay? That'll give you time to get back and get ready for brunch." 

  

She was already warmed up and ready to go by the time he arrived, and watched, a little paranoid, as he opened his door and stepped around the car. 

"Ready to go?" he asked, trying not to notice the livid bruises on her arms and legs. He was beginning to wince whenever he saw her, as the bruises on her neck changed their colors before fading. 

"Yeah." 

"We'll take it slow, okay?" He could see that she wanted to protest, but common sense obviously got the better of her, and she nodded. 

"I usually just run up around the park over on 15th. It's a good four mile jog." 

"Sounds fine." 

  

They had just reached the park when it happened. Scully was slightly ahead, pushing her burn for the fun of it, when a van jumped the curb in front of her. Her dive into the nearby hedge barely saved her, as the van slipped off the sidewalk and sped on. 

"Scully!" Mulder was there to help her pull herself out of the bush, watching closely as she angrily brushed herself off. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah," she gritted, feeling the ache of her already-cracked ribs as they began to throb again. "You get that idiot's license plate?" 

Mulder nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. "Yeah. Maryland plate." 

She nodded. At least one homicidal idiot would get caught this month. She winced deeply as she took another breath, looking up at him wryly. "Guess that's the end of this run." 

He shook his head at her as she led the way back to her apartment, walking just slowly enough not to aggravate her ribs any more. 

  

She was just overall sore by the time they reached her place, and she offered to let him take a shower first, so she could use as much hot water as she liked when he had gone. She poured a glass of water, and remembered that she hadn't checked her messages when she returned home last night. Judging by the time it took to rewind, she had a lot of them. 

_beep_ "Hi, honey, it's Mom... I just wanted to see how you're feeling, and remind you that we're meeting at ten-thirty tomorrow, not ten. Hope you're feeling better, honey. Bye." 

_beep_ "Hey, Dana." Sal sounded better. "You wanna go shopping with me tomorrow afternoon? Just down to Baltimore for the afternoon, maybe dinner at that cool seafood place? Let me know." 

_beep_ "Hi, Sis... I talked to Mom about tomorrow morning. I have a channeling class at nine, so I won't be able to make it to brunch until ten-thirty. I just wanted to make sure you knew..." Her sister's voice turned worried. "Listen, I'm kind of worried about you. Are you sure you're okay? I've just got... I've got this feeling that something strange is going to happen." Scully smirked. "And don't laugh at me, Dana! It's just a feeling... Call me when you get in. Bye." 

_beep_ "Hi, Dana." She frowned. She didn't recognize the voice. "I just keep missing you, don't I? Guess you're out and about. Kind of early to be out on a Saturday, though, isn't it? I'll try again later today. Bye." 

"Got a boyfriend in hiding?" Mulder asked from the hallway, smiling as she jumped. 

She shook her head. "Don't recognize the voice, though it does kind of sound like a guy I went to Quantico with..." She shrugged. "You done?" 

"Yeah," he nodded, running a hand through his wet hair to try to impose some semblance of order. Lost cause, as usual. He walked up to her, concerned. "You sure you're okay, Scully?" 

She smiled at him reassuringly. "Just report that guy, will you? I think they should give people a psych test before they can get their license." 

"Speaking of driving," he said, holding her eyes when they tried to drop. "When's your car going to be finished?" 

"I'm not sure," she hedged. "Replacing the door will take some time." 

He nodded. "You could just get one out of the Bureau pool, you know? Until yours is fixed." 

"I know," she replied, in a voice that clearly told him to back off. "I'll see you at work on Monday, okay?" She caught his arm as he turned to leave. "And Mulder? Thanks for this morning." 

He smiled and walked out. 

* * * 

_Perkin's Restaurant  
Alexandria_

"And the guy just barreled on," Scully finished, sipping at her orange juice with a sigh. "There are just too many idiots with driver's licenses these days." 

"Are you still sore?" her mother asked quietly. 

Scully shrugged. "A little, though the running this morning helped. Mostly I'm just tired." 

Missy leaned forward, a little frown in her eyes. "Dana..." Her sister could tell she didn't want to hear this question. "Are you _sure_ these were accidents?" 

Scully glowered at her. She already had a paranoid partner. She didn't need her sister getting into the act. "Missy... Yes." Suddenly she wasn't so sure, but she shook her head anyway. "Of course they were accidents. Why?" she smirked, deciding to turn the tables. "Did you read my future in your tea leaves or something?" 

Melissa looked a little irritated and dropped her eyes. 

"Oh, Missy, I'm sorry. Really. Look, two unfortunate accidents in a week is unusual, but they were just coincidences. I think the guy in the van this morning just took the turn too fast." 

"What about the other one?" 

Scully studied her sister's face. Missy was truly worried about this. "The police are investigating that one." Her own eyes dropped. "No leads yet." 

Missy could feel that their mother was beginning to worry, and wisely turned the conversation to safer subjects. 

  

It was after twelve before they finished, and Scully convinced her sister to run her home, so she wouldn't miss Sal, who was supposed to pick her up at twelve-thirty, and would therefore probably arrive at one. 

"Afraid to drive, huh?" Missy asked teasingly as she pulled out of the lot. 

"Not really..." 

"Oh, right! I remember when you hit that post with Dad's car. You wouldn't even _get_ in a car for a month." 

Scully snorted at the memory. It was really how she felt now. As if any car she touched would just fall apart on contact. She smiled the shock-fear away, as they approached her apartment. 

"Thanks, Missy," she said, turning to her sister as she opened the door. 

"No problem--and Dana?" Her sister's eyes got very serious, and Scully almost had to laugh. "Be careful, okay? Call it psychic mumbo-jumbo if you want, but I have a very strong feeling about this." 

"I'll be careful, Miss. I promise." As she walked up the steps to her building, she muttered. "God, _I'm_ going to get paranoid at this rate!" 

  

Sal was late--as usual. Scully teasingly suggested that the first thing they shop for be a reliable watch for the pathologist--then maybe she'd get _somewhere_ on time. 

Sal, as usual, was not impressed. 

She tried to talk easily as they wandered the mall, trying to ignore it as Scully cringed when they passed the store where the three of them had found the red velvet gown she'd been wearing that night. Sal still saw it all in her dreams, and had hoped that this outing might make them both feel more themselves. It didn't seem to be working. 

"Hey, Dana," she said finally. "Let's just get dinner and go home, okay? I don't feel much like shopping anymore." 

Dana nodded sadly. It just wasn't the same. 

  

Dinner was excellent; the restaurant quiet before the dinner crowd came in. They left at around five fifteen, planning to go back to Scully's house for a movie and popcorn. 

They were just pulling out of the parking lot when it happened again--a white sports car came within inches of clipping the front end of Sal's sedan. The idea flashed through Dana's mind that this one just couldn't have been an accident--he had had to go well out of his way to pull that close to the exit. 

Sal sat still for a moment, marshalling her racing pulse. She looked over at Scully, who had gone predictably white. "Dana, you all right?" 

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. I just..." _No. Figure out if it's true before you scare her to death._ "I'm fine. Let's just get back to my place, okay?" 

  

They arrived without further incident, and Scully had almost convinced herself that Missy had just spooked her, causing her to see what wasn't there. 

Then she saw the answering machine blinking at her. She let it rewind, waiting for what she knew would be there. 

_beep_ "Scully, it's Mulder. Call me. Looks like we've got a case--in California, if you can believe it. We're supposed to leave on Sunday, but I can push it to Monday if you need to. Let me know." 

_beep_ "Hey, Dana! Are you _ever_ home?" 

"Sal," she called quickly. "Listen to this voice, and tell me if you recognize it." 

"...I figured you were out with friends. Probably shopping or something. Anyway, I won't be around for a few days, so I'll try again when I get back. Bye." 

Sal shook her head. "Doesn't sound familiar. Why?" She stood straighter suddenly. "Wait, I think that's the same guy that called while you were in the hospital." 

"That would make sense." 

Sal frowned at her. "What are you talking about, Dana?" 

"I was nearly hit by a car again this morning, while Mulder and I were out running. When I got home, that same voice was on the phone. Now again tonight, after we almost get creamed? Coincidence has nothing to do with this." 

"Someone's trying to kill you?" Sal asked, disbelieving. 

"No," Scully replied. "No, I don't think so. Someone's trying to try not to kill me." 

"I don't get it." 

"Neither do I. But that guy this morning could have killed me easily. If that sedan last week had been going just a bit faster, he'd have killed both Janis and me." She sat quietly, musing. "He wants me to think he's trying to kill me." 

They sat for a moment in thoughtful silence, until Scully grabbed the phone. "Danny Valledeo, please. Yes, Agent Scully... Okay, can you tell him I'll call him first thing Monday morning. It's important. Okay, thanks..." She disconnected and dialed again. 

"Hi, Mulder, it's Scully... No, leaving tomorrow is fine." She fought to keep her voice level. He wasn't that easy to fool anymore. "Did you report that guy? ... It was stolen, huh? Great. Guess we'll never nail him now... No... No, can't say I'm surprised, though... Yeah, I'll be ready at eight... Okay... Bye." 

She hung up the phone, hand lingering on the receiver as she thought. Why would anyone be after her? She couldn't remember any of the many people she and Mulder had arrested who would have reason--or opportunity--to be after her. 

And this was more than just random attempts. It was calculated... He'd known where she was going, what she was doing... She walked to the window, glancing out nonchalantly to check for anything strange. Nothing... How did he know? 

"...going to tell him what's going on? ...Dana?" 

Scully shook herself and turned back to Sal, who stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"I said, are you ever going to tell him what's going on?" Sal's glare told her that she'd better act fast, or the pretty brunette was going to call Mulder herself. 

"I don't know that anything is going on, Sal," she stated reasonably. "I don't want to make a federal case out of it until I know that there's something to pursue." She tried on a sad smile. "I'm probably just being paranoid, Sal... God knows after that accident last week, I have cause to be skittish." 

Sal took a deep breath. Why did they always do this to her? Dana and Fox both! The day could be going fairly well; pleasant, uneventful... Then something would happen, and instead of letting it all just happen, they started thinking these wild theories up--only to drop them a few minutes later. It was fine for them. They got to get whatever ideas they had swimming around in their brains out in the open, but it always left her imagination in overdrive--thinking up conspiracies and plots. She wasn't in the mood tonight. 

"Well, I suppose I should let you pack," she offered, clearly not planning to stay. 

Dana frowned slightly at her friend's moods. "I guess the movie's out, then?" 

"Not really in the mood for a movie anymore, Dana," she said, making for the door. "I'll talk to you when you get back from California." 

  

Scully wouldn't have said that Sal left in a huff, but she was obviously irritated, and Scully couldn't really blame her. It wasn't as if she was going to be able to concentrate on Mel Gibson tonight anyway. She sat down on her couch and flipped on the television, using it as background noise while she considered the possibilities. 

He was following her, obviously. Following closely. And he liked to play games about it. Maybe the phone records she planned to have Danny pull on Monday could give her a clue as to the guy's identity. Until she got something, though, she was going to have to be very careful. She tried not to think about what this meant in terms of Janis's death. Her fault. Janis had died because some psycho was playing games with _her._

And she didn't even know why. 

* * * 

_9:15 am  
En route to San Francisco_

Scully sat back in her coach class airline seat and tried to relax. She ignored the puzzled glance of her partner--one of many that morning--and grabbed her laptop. 

"Let me see that file again, Mulder." 

He nodded, still that avoided question in his eyes. She looked pale to him; worried. And she had been so skittish as they drove to Dulles. Accidents like the one she'd had last week weren't easy to get over. 

"Scully?" he asked quietly as she poured over the file. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, fine." She sounded normal--a little preoccupied as she flipped through the information before her--but not rattled in any way. 

Maybe he was the one who was nervous. 

Scully was one of the many women in the world that he felt he would never understand. She kept herself very much to herself, and rarely let her emotions get the best of her. That was a good way to be, as an FBI agent--gave you clarity and purpose. Unfortunately, it also ate away your insides. 

She pursed her lips at a piece of information, and he had to quickly avert his eyes as she turned toward him. "What about these phone calls Sarah Palfrey's roommate talks about?" 

Mulder shrugged. "No connection that I can see. They weren't threatening--just a guy who kept calling while they were out, saying he'd try back later." 

_Try back later._ Scully thought, nodding her head slightly. _Try back for another murder attempt, I'll bet._ She looked back into the file. "What about the other women? Any calls there?" 

Mulder shook his head. "They all lived alone. She was the only one with a roommate." 

"Maybe we should have the local police pull their answering machine tapes. Find out if he was calling any of the others." 

"Scully?" he asked, a look of consternation on his face. "If he was the killer, wouldn't he have threatened her?" 

Scully tried to play it cool. "Not necessarily. He might have wanted to scare them." She finally met his questioning gaze, mixing a little irritation into her own. "It's something out of the ordinary, Mulder," she reasoned. "We may as well check it out." 

Mulder nodded, and let it drop. Maybe it was just a hunch. He wasn't the only person around who was allowed to have hunches, was he? 

* * * 

_2:35 pm_  
1355 15th St.  
San Francisco, Calif. 

Janet Callery was very nervous. The house had the unfinished look of a place that was being shipped off in pieces. She had obviously taken most of the week to pack up her murdered roommate's possessions, and it had just as obviously been extremely difficult. 

"She didn't really go out much, you know," Janet was saying, wringing her hands. "Sarah wasn't a prude, or anything, but she worked twelve hour shifts at the hospital, and by the time she got home, there was just no energy left." 

"What can you tell us about the phone calls?" Scully asked quietly. 

Janet moved to the answering machine and started rewinding it. "I guess she got a few of them. See, she works days, and I work nights, so we don't--didn't--really see a lot of each other... The, um, the person you should really talk to is Kinney Sinclair. She's one of the shift nurses that Sarah worked with a lot. They were pretty close." 

Scully nodded, jotted the name down. She wasn't surprised by the information, Mulder noticed. And something seemed to be tickling the edge of his thoughts. Some pattern he couldn't quite see. 

"Here's one," Janet said finally, pressing stop on the tape. "She said she kind of recognized the voice, but she wasn't sure who he was." She ran the tape, and Scully listened to the now-familiar voice with it's cryptic message. 

"Hey, Sally," he said, all enthusiasm. "I still can't get you, can I? Okay, well, I'll try back later. See you." 

Scully made another note. "Did Sarah seem at all nervous lately?" 

Janet thought about it. "A little, I guess. She was pretty jumpy the last couple of days. Made driving with her just terrifying." 

"How so?" Scully had leaned forward now. 

"Well, she had a day off on Saturday, so we decided to go out shopping. You know, spend some time together for once... Anyway, we were pulling out of the garage, and she just slammed on her brakes as this van drove past, like she was afraid he was going to jump out and hit us... Little things like that." 

"Had she been in any accidents recently?" 

"Well, that's what I thought, but she said she was just jumpy for some reason." 

Scully nodded again, sat back, and let Mulder run the rest of the interview. By the time they were done, the sun was beginning to set. 

"What was that all about?" he wanted to know, as they slipped back into the rental car and headed toward the hotel. 

"Didn't you notice that four of the other victims had been admitted to emergency rooms for minor car accidents in the weeks previous to their murders?" 

He shook his head. "Yeah... But accidents happen every day..." 

She smiled disarmingly. "Maybe they're just more on my mind lately." She looked over at him as they reached the hotel. "Do you want to go interview Sarah's friend at the hospital? She should be getting off shift soon." 

Mulder shrugged. "What are you going to do?" 

"I wanted to do a little more research on the other victims. There's some kind of a pattern here. I want to see if I can define it a little better." 

Mulder was nervous about leaving her, that little tickling in his mind back again with a vengeance. "Why don't we both go over?" 

She smiled at his protectiveness. "I'm fine, Mulder," she assured him, trying very hard to convince him of that. "I'll sit in my room on the modem the whole time. Promise." She slid out of the car, turning back to him. "Call me when you get back. We can go to dinner, and see what each of us came up with." 

  

_6:30 pm  
San Francisco General_

Mulder braved the chaos of SF Gen's emergency room, making quietly for the shift nurses' desk. 

"Hello, my name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI. I'm looking for Kinney Sinclair." 

The spare black girl behind the desk surveyed his ID quickly. "She just got called in to help with a gunshot wound. Wanna take a seat and wait for her?" She gestured to a quiet lounge nearby. 

"Thanks. How long do you think it will be?" 

She shrugged. "Shouldn't take too long." 

  

_8:15 pm  
Hilton Central_

Scully stared at her lists, the information making more and more sense to her. She'd found the link among the victims. A vague link, but one that, because of it's very vagueness, made the killer easier to track down. 

At first, she had thought maybe it was a professional link. Three of the women had been nurses or doctors... She included herself in the count to make four. But that had been all. A couple were lawyers, a couple were waitresses, one was an actress. She tried hometown links next. The three who had been killed in Martinsville, Indiana had all lived there their whole lives. Unfortunately, they were the only ones who seemed to have even seen Indiana. She certainly had never been to Martinsville--wasn't even sure where it was. 

On a hunch, she had made a list of where each woman went to school. That was where she had found her pattern. It was a pattern that started in Indiana, and went from California to, frighteningly enough, the FBI training headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. 

She didn't like doing this kind of research--having to add herself into the equation. But she was all too obviously there. She and two other victims had been at Berkeley for the same freshmen year, and, while the other woman had dropped out early on, she was also a common link at Quantico. 

All in all, there were four common schools: Central high school in Martinsville, Berkeley, UCLA, and Quantico. Using the dates of each woman's schooling--adding her own in for an added component, and tracking any men who might have been at each school during those years, she hoped she'd get a short list of suspects. 

Then, she'd have to explain to Mulder how she'd figured it out. 

She sat back as her modem whined away at the FBI central computer, thinking about the situation. Why was she so reluctant to talk to Mulder about this? Did it really all go back to Pfaster? 

She had been horrified by what that unstable man had done to her--what he had _almost_ done--but falling apart in front of Mulder like that had humiliated her more than anything the psychopath had done. She was Mulder's partner--he was not there to take care of her. She was there to back him up. 

And she did her job very well, most of the time. Except that one. Except the one time she had let the opposition scare her. She had gone running back to DC, like a scared little agent just out of Quantico. So unprofessional... 

She was still lost in her thoughts twenty minutes later, when she heard the scream. 

She looked down into the alley four flights below, catching sight of a man and a woman fighting in the deep shadows. She didn't give herself a second to think as she grabbed her gun and headed for the stairs. 

  

The alley seemed even darker and more abandoned as she slipped around the corner. The police were on their way, but if she was right, they'd get there too late. She kept her eyes roaming, carefully taking in the woman's body, crumpled in a heap by the trash bin. No sign of the man. 

She had just about reached the woman when she heard the tires squeal. She didn't feel the impact that sent her flying. 

  

_9:03 pm_

Mulder was too tired to think straight by now. "Not too long" had turned into two hours, and by the time he finally got to speak with Kinney Sinclair, _she_ was too tired to help much. She did confirm that Sarah had had a few near misses in the last week, but she didn't think much about it. "People just drive crazy in this town, you know?" she'd shrugged. "You get used to it." 

  

He was nearly to the hotel when he saw the police cordon. He pulled up and approached a lieutenant, brandishing his badge. "What's going on?" 

"Looks like a robbery attempt. Guy got spooked and ran her over with his car." 

He gestured to the mouth of the alley below Scully's window, where the coroner's men were placing a small, spare redhead into a long black bag. 

Mulder ran right past him, ignoring the lieutenant's startled call to stop. He approached the black bag breathlessly, praying that he hadn't seen what he thought he had. 

But there it was. All he could see from the opening at the top was a small, bloodied white face; red hair covering it, spilling over into the bag. Without a word to the men, he reached out, a trembling hand pushing back the mass of hair... 

And breathed a sigh of relief that was almost a sob. It wasn't her. He shook himself suddenly for such melodrama, thinking how she'd laugh at him if he told her that he had fallen so apart with a simple flash of red. He turned and headed back toward the building. 

He reached the fourth floor with a tired sigh. Too exhausted to eat, he might as well check in and see what Scully had found. She had left her door a little open, probably wondering where the Hell he'd got to. 

But the room was empty. Her laptop hummed quietly to itself amid a sea of paper. She was going to catch Hell for leaving her door half open. She was probably downstairs in the restaurant, having her dinner because she couldn't wait any longer, and hadn't been careful enough about closing it. She was lucky her laptop was still there. 

He dashed for his own door across the way, fumbling for the keys as he heard the phone ring. He caught it on the fourth ring. 

"Hello?" 

"Mr. Mulder?" asked the night concierge. "The police down here are looking for Ms. Scully. I tried to call her room, but the line is busy." 

"Why are they looking for her?" Mulder wanted to know. 

"She was the one who reported the incident outside, sir," he continued. "They need to have her fill out a report." 

Mulder got a cold tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, that tickling in his brain now becoming a fire, as the image of that dead woman sprang to mind again. "I'll be down in a minute." 

He strode across the hall to her room, heading straight for her laptop and the papers that surrounded it, hoping for some clue as to where she might have gone, whether she had been taken. The computer was running a search. Colleges, high schools... He lifted a paper nearby, and studied the lists on it. 

Three of the victims under Central High, Martinsville; two under Berkeley, which was circled; four under UCLA; one under Quantico--also circled. 

He sighed painfully. She'd found the pattern. She had found the pattern that he hadn't--and the reason she had found it was because she was part of it. Berkeley and Quantico, the phone calls and the accidents. She was a target, too. And she had known it. 

So why hadn't she told him? 

  

He reached the lobby just as a young beat cop reached his lieutenant. "We found a gun, sir. Buried in the trash... Walther PPK..." 

The lieutenant ran a tired hand through his hair. "A gun, too? Great... Dust it for prints... Jesus, what the Hell happened here?" He looked up at Mulder. "And where the Hell's your partner, FBI? The night manager told me she ran down here, telling him to call the police, then went outside and disappeared. If she's still tracking the guy who did this, I want to know about it." 

"Can I see the gun?" Mulder asked quietly, ignoring the outburst completely. 

The lieutenant shrugged and his officer handed the now-bagged gun over to him. 

Mulder took a deep breath. "It's hers." 

"Whose?" 

"My partner's." 

The lieutenant gave him a long hard look. "Okay, Agent Mulder. I want you to come down to the station and explain this all to me." His beefy hand on Mulder's shoulder brooked no argument. 

* * * 

_12:45 am_

Mulder was ready to put a fist through the cinder block walls of the Fifteenth's Precinct House. He had ranted, raved, threatened to arrest the lieutenant himself for obstruction of a federal investigation... but in the end, he had had to sit down and explain the entire case to the man. Every second he wasn't looking for her ate at him, and by the time they were ready to let him go, he was ready to scream. 

He started in her hotel room, planning to comb through her papers, to try to find something that would lead him to her. The murderer killed quickly, Mulder's mind whispered to him, the victims were never missing for more than twenty-four hours before their bodies were recovered, dumped in likely, visible places. 

He ended up having the information presented to him on an electronic platter. The search that her laptop had been doing through the FBI central computer had finally run it's course, and the result was three names. The names of three men who had attended each of the schools on her list, at just the times the victims had. 

One of the names he recognized--Frank Lorry. He was an FBI field agent, and as Mulder dialed the local headquarters on his cell phone, he was just betting that he was stationed in San Francisco. 

  

_2:36 am_  
Paradise Docks  
Pier 13 

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, one of man's greatest fears was that of being buried alive. That almost primal fear has been passed down in folk tales and horror stories. It was the fear that set Dana Scully trying to scream. 

She didn't do it well, actually--more because of the gag that held her tongue than lack of conviction. She could feel herself, tied hand and foot; could feel the wood enclosing her. She could feel... but she couldn't see anything. 

At her whimpers, a strong hand grabbed her arm from the side, causing her to notice the pain that coursed through every inch of her body--the pain that had been masked by her terror. 

As she hit the floor, she stared up painfully, seeing now the short narrow bed she had lain on. Her father had called them Sailor's Stows, and they were essentially wooden shelves set in the wall, so that four sailors could sleep stacked one above the next. 

A man's face slipped into her fuzzy view. It was a face that made her momentarily relax. He was FBI. She remembered going through training with him... The hard look in his eyes gave her pause. Oh, God... _Quantico_ training. 

His mouth twisted into a smile. "Hey, Dana! I thought you'd be harder to get hold of, you know?" He laughed--like chewing glass--"Still, it's not as if I didn't have connections." 

He gently untied the gag, and she considered screaming--right up until she saw him reach across her and grab the knife. She looked around the darkened cabin, felt the boat rocking beneath her. No chance of being heard--they were probably out on the water. 

"Why are you doing this?" she managed to croak weakly. 

He smiled again, as he brought up the knife to her bound hands. "With all that time you've had to spend with Spooky-boy, I thought you'd welcome some _real_ male companionship." 

He straddled her hips, started to cut through her bonds, and suddenly it was Donnie Pfaster all over again. The cedar smell of this cabin, the sound of knife through twine-- 

She brought her legs up, panic overriding the sharp pain in her left thigh, and drove her knees hard into his back. He arched back off of her, and she followed through with her feet in his chest. 

But he was on her again before she could even bring herself to her knees. On her, and pummeling her, slapping her hard enough to knock her out. 

  

_2:48 am_

Mulder's mind churned through the information as he headed for the docks. Lorry had been removed from active duty following a wrongful death inquiry. The required psych eval had shown a possibly dangerous instability, previously unsuspected, but the bureau hadn't pushed for therapy. Mulder knew from experience--they rarely did. 

The boat was--miraculously--exactly where it should have been. He didn't see any lights, but he slid his Glock out of its holster, and stepped carefully onto the decks. He could hear the sounds of a beating inside, and he walked as quickly and quietly as he could to the cabin door. 

He needn't have bothered. Lorry was making too much noise to hear anything else--most of it his fist in Scully's face, and the expletives that flowed non-stop out of his mouth. Mulder could faintly hear the sound of ripping cloth. 

"Stupid, _fucking_ bitch!" Lorry was cursing. "Stupid, fucking ice-brained _bitch!_ You don't even deserve this, you fucking whore. Don't even...!" 

Mulder heard more ripping as he reached the edge of the doorway. He peeked in carefully, watching Lorry's back as the man stripped what little was left of Scully's clothing off of her unmoving body. He himself was already half-stripped, and what he planned needed no imagination to figure out. 

  

Scully heard the gun cock faintly, forced one battered eye partially open to find out what he planned for her now. She was sure she was hallucinating. She could swear she saw Mulder's outline in the doorway, heard his voice. 

"Get off of her, Lorry. Now!" 

She vaguely felt the man above her shift slightly, heard his chewed-glass laugh. "No way, Mulder," he said coldly, as she felt the sudden touch of metal on her neck. "No fucking w--" 

It all seemed to happen at once--she could feel the impact of the bullet in the body above, feel the point of his knife drive through the exposed skin at the base of her neck... feel the strength of her own breathing as it died. She was going to die along with it. 

But _he_ was there. Mulder. She could hear him dial his cell phone, hear the call for help. But she could also hear the sound of her own breath as it weakened, as the breaths became increasingly shallow, increasingly rapid. 

Oh, yes... She was going to die... 

* * * 

Mulder pulled Lorry off of her, ripping off his own coat and covering her with it. He knew enough to leave the knife where it was, sticking out of her windpipe like an obscene buoy. The one eye that Lorry's beating hadn't swollen completely shut was pushing past the layers of bruises around it, trying desperately to convey her terror. He put a trembling hand on her forehead. 

"Scully?" he called, louder than he needed to. "Scully! It's all right... You're going to be all right... There's an ambulance coming, Scully, just hold on..." 

He watched the one eye close as her breathing all but stopped. "No, Scully!" he cried quietly, watching the eye try to fight open again. "Come on, Scully, come on... Just hold on for me, okay? Just hold on." 

As the eye faltered again, Mulder did something he rarely thought of. He prayed. 

_Don't let her die here. Not after everything else. Not after all the other things we've gotten through. Don't let her die naked in a crumbling old boat..._

He could hear the sirens as they approached. By the time they arrived, he couldn't hear her breathing... 

* * * 

She could hear a heartbeat. It didn't sound like hers, though. She shouldn't have one at all. She was dead. Still, she could hear it... 

As she floated back and forth through the layers of pain, one thought kept returning to her: If she hurt this much, she couldn't be dead... And there was always that heartbeat... 

  

It took hours of vacillating between pain and consciousness for her to finally come to herself. The hours, the anesthesia, the pain, it had all conspired to rip much of the last day from her memory. All she knew was that she shouldn't be alive--why, she couldn't say--but the fact remained unassailable. 

She pried one tired, swollen eye open, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't see much--her eye was little more than a slit and her neck hurt far too much to move. Still, her movements attracted attention. 

"Scully?" Mulder's voice was tired, and his face, as he moved into view, was equally fatigued. Still, he smiled gently at her. "Hi," he said simply. 

She looked at him blearily. "What happened?" Her voice sounded normal, but she whined slightly at the pain in her neck. 

"Careful," he warned. "The doctor said that talking is going to be kind of hard for a few days. Do you want some water?" 

She nodded painfully, and he disappeared for a moment, sliding a cool glass of water to her lips. She swallowed gently as he watched, ever hovering. 

"Lorry's dead," he stated quietly. 

_Lorry? Who's--_ She was assailed suddenly by the vision of a half-clothed man crouching over her, a knife plunging itself into her throat. She closed her eye against the memory, only to snap it open again as the vision played out behind her lids. 

Mulder watched her, saw the confusion in her face. "He was suspended a couple of months ago for a suspicious shooting, and I guess he just cracked." 

She nodded gingerly, and steeled herself to speak again. "Why...?" 

Mulder shook his head. "It looks like he was taking out his frustrations on women who had spurned him..." He watched her closely. "Did you know him?" 

"At Quantico," she affirmed. "But I don't really remember him very well... I'm sure I don't remember him asking me out or anything..." 

He let the silence hang for a moment, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, slightly betrayed. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" 

She looked at him for a long time, trying to find the answer to his question. "I didn't... I didn't know it had anything to do with this case until we got to San Francisco," she replied lamely. 

"What about the near misses in Washington?" he asked. "What about the phone calls?" 

_He's been talking to Sal._ "I didn't think it was anything sinister, Mulder... I just--" She cut off in a spate of coughing. 

He stood carefully, still that betrayed look in his eyes. Why didn't she trust him? He sighed quietly, and briefly squeezed her hand. "I'll let you get some rest. I have to write up a report about this, anyway." 

"Mulder," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his hand again as he turned away. "Thanks." 

He nodded, slipped out of the hospital room. He wondered what she was thanking him for--for saving her life, or for dropping the subject. He'd bring it up again, he told himself. When she was better... 

* * *  
The End 


End file.
